


A Mess

by magalix3



Category: GOT7
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Clubbing, Fluffy Ending, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Romance, lots of swearing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-14
Updated: 2016-11-14
Packaged: 2018-08-31 00:47:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8556037
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magalix3/pseuds/magalix3
Summary: It’s midterms week and Mark should be studying, but he does the hot guy across the bar instead.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mayora](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mayora/gifts).



If this motherfucker doesn’t leave Mark alone, he’s going to get kicked out of the club.

And I mean _Mark_ is going to get kicked out of the club. The motherfucker probably will, too, but Mark’s a little more concerned with himself. He’s a little more concerned with his Calculus midterm, and his English Literature short essay, and his Ethics paper due in less than forty-eight hours. He’s thinking about that online class that he hasn’t logged into in two weeks and he’s thinking about the assignments he hasn’t done and the chapters he hasn’t read.

Then the motherfucker leans closer against the counter and Mark is seconds away from shattering the cheap ass glass in his hand against the drunkard’s forehead.

Mark wants to know _where the fuck_ are his friends? The friends that hauled his ass away from his textbooks and notes to dump him by the bar. They had promised a good time and this isn’t a good time. He’s numb to the alcohol and not-so-numb to the drunkard at his side.

“Hey, pretty boy, c’mon, let’s go someplace.”

Mark glares at the man. Go someplace? Go someplace _where_? His apartment? He’s dressed like a hobo. He smells like a hobo. Mark’s not fucking amused. His patience is strung thing, only moments away from snapping. 

Jackson appears then, like some lame excuse for a Prince Charming that uses force to shoo away the dragon. The dragon, of course, being the drunk, who trudges away in shame.

“Dude, you shoulda told him to leave you alone.”

“What the fuck, Jacks, I didn’t just stand here and not say anything and let him touch me. He was fuckin’ drunk. You know, not responding. Kind of like you, even when sober.”

He’s not being fair but he’s angry and stressed and Jackson’s a good, understanding guy, just frowning at his friend instead of retaliating. Because that’s not what anyone needs right now.

“You need to chill the fuck out.”

“I _need_ to be studying.”

“Mh-hm, studying, or snapchatting that guy from your Ethics class?”

Mark shoots his friend a glare, _daring_ him to go down that path. He’s cranky and feeling the booze. Not a good mix. But Jackson isn’t the type to shy away. He’s not going to let Mark get away with this. He knows that Mark does more fooling around than work. So he leans in and says, “How about you work on pulling that stick out of your ass, and then you can come upstairs?”

“There’s an upstairs?”

Jackson rolls his eyes. “Yeah, Bambam invited you but you drowned yourself in some Hennessey and flipped him off.”

Mark makes a little noise that’s not heard over the loud ambience of a club. “I’m not gonna pass my classes.”

“You shouldn’t have waited until the last minute to start studying.”

“I’ve been _trying_ \--”

“Dude, we’re roommates. Don’t bullshit me. I’m not hoppin’ on the Pity Mark train. Ride it yourself. You need alcohol and you need a good fuck. Then you need a good nights’ sleep and a hearty breakfast and --”

“Who even says _hearty_?”

Jackson groans and flags down the bartender, ordering two more drinks and two shots. “I’m trying to be nice but you’re stressing me out. This is a club, asshole, lighten the fuck up.” He downs his shot and chases it with the drink. Mark’s still frowning at him. He’s been frowning for so long he’s going to have frown lines for the rest of his life.

“A club I don’t even want to be at.”

“Fine -- fucking _fine_.” Jackson slams his cup back on the table, the bartender glancing warningly at him. “Go back to the dorm if you want. Being next to you is making me miserable. I’m gonna go hump Bambam, or something. Or anyone. I don’t care.”

“Is he even legal yet?”

“Yes he is, asshole.”

And Mark is left alone at the bar.

He knows he being difficult and he knows that it’s really unnecessary. He knows that Jackson loves the shit out of him, because the feeling is mutual, and he knows that Bambam, despite being childish, looks up to him like a role model. He knows he’s being a brat but right now he’s so miserable he’s not looking to _not_ be a brat. He’s going to wallow. He’s going to wallow _hard._

In the middle of all his self-hatred and brooding, Mark orders another drink, asks for the strongest thing off the top shelf, and tells himself that tonight is the night he’s gonna rack up his credit card debt. He’s gonna get drunk and order chili cheese fries and tell his diet to fuck itself.

He’s gonna buy _all_ the chili cheese fries.

But he doesn’t get that far. Just as he’s making a mental confirmation of chili cheese fries, the bartender drops a drink in front of him. It’s the bluest blue he’s ever seen. The bartender leans over to tell him what it is, but he doesn’t hear a word of it, only catches the wave that directions his attention across the bar.

Mark looks at the bartender, confused, and he motions again towards the opposite direction. Mark glances over but is so _confused_. Because the bartender is making no sense. He’s pointing at a guy that’s attractive as fuck. He’s insinuating that this hot-ass guy is buying crank as hell Mark Tuan _a drink._

Then the guy smiles, alluring, and Mark’s brain stops working.

_Jesus fuckin’ Christ this hot as shit dude is hitting on him._

It sends an alert through his system. This hot guy thinks he’s hot. This hot guy is trying to get his attention. His. Mark Tuan. It’s both a confidence booster and not a confidence booster. Is he being made fun of? Is he being picked on? Are the lights of the club making him hot? Because Mark’s never thought that his level of attractiveness would prompt an attractive man to send him a drink.

And what does he do in this situation? What’s the next step?

The alcohol in his system tells him to introduce himself. So he does, he grabs the drink off the counter and moves on over. He gets on the bar stool besides this mysterious man. He realizes that the proximity doesn’t make this guy change his mind, like maybe Mark was hotter from a distance, or something. He smiles, giving Mark the up and down. You know the one, that dirty look that starts from the top and sweeps downwards, admiring, and pausing on his crotch. Mark greatly appreciates it. He’s glad he borrowed Yugyeom’s leather jacket tonight. 

Mark’s knee touches the stranger’s thigh and he feels a spark at the touch. Yeah, if that’s enough to get him riled up then Jackson’s right, he needs to get laid.

And then the guy looks him up and down _again_ , drinking him in with his lips poised on his glass. Then he takes a slow sip and Mark watches the bob of his Adam’s apple.

“Have you tried it yet?”

Mark glances at the blue drink in his hands, and brings it to his lips. It’s fucking delicious, it’s strong as hell, and he takes another sip.

“I’m Jinyoung.” He says with a smile. 

“Mark.”

Mark, who wants to kiss the fuck outta Jinyoung.

“Do you want to dance?”

Mark and Jinyoung down their drinks and leave bills as tip on the counter. They’ll have to come back later to close their tabs. Neither of them are concerned about it right now. The bartender could take their credit cards and it’d be all good.

Actually, no, that’s not totally true. Mark’s broke. He’d mourn his credit card.

Jinyoung’s bold, and Mark’s feeling bolder. He trails behind as Jinyoung moves ahead of him, giving him the same one-over he had received earlier. Jinyoung’s more than just a handsome face, he’s got sculpted thighs and an ass that’s firm and tempting. Jinyoung spins around to reach for him and smiles when Mark’s caught ogling. He’s caught shamelessly ogling.

They stumble into each other, hazed by lust and alcohol. Mark’s senses are heightened, goosebumps rise where Jinyoung’s breath fans against him, heat pools on his hips where Jinyoung palms him. Their chests bump, their faces get close, closer than Mark’s ever allowed with anyone previously. Especially since they’ve only known each other for all of seven minutes. This is all new to him, but he happy to go with the flow and follow behind the handsome man’s lead. Jinyoung’s taller, has thicker thighs, toned biceps, and Mark wants to climb between his legs and stay there all night. So that’s what he plans to do.

Only one corner of Jinyoung’s lip curls, as if he’s reading all of Mark’s thoughts. (It’s actually reading all over his face.) The lights dance along the lust in Jinyoung’s eyes, illuminating the sensations. The lights flicker over his skin, tracing his cheekbones and the curve of his nose. Mark wants to bite along the sweep of his jaw. 

Jinyoung pushes his hand through his hair. His bangs flop uselessly, and as hot as it is to watch his dark locks curl around his fingers, as much as Mark appreciates the teasing, or the brief exposure of Jinyoung’s neck as he flicks his chin to get his bangs from his eyes, Mark’s frustrated. He pins Jinyoung’s hair back with his own hand. His fingers tangle into Jinyoung’s hair and stays here, exposing a handsome face.

Mark wants to kiss along the contours of his face, wants to lick along his collarbones. He wants his hands to disappear under the hem of his shirt.

Jinyoung hooks his thumbs on the belt loops to Mark’s grey jeans and leans forward. 

Mark’s sweating. He’s sweating booze and sex. They’re dancing against each other with a fervor fueled by booze and sex. Shameless and wanton.

Jinyoung rolls his hips like he’s been trained to do this. And I know they’re grinding on a club floor, faces inches apart, Mark’s hand in Jinyoung’s hair, but his hips against Mark’s are _suggestive_. Even more so than the shadows in his gaze. They’re losing control, eye-fucking, grinding, breathing in each other’s air.

This is not how Mark’s night was supposed to go. 

But here he is, Jinyoung’s hips swaying against his, Jinyoung’s hips curving beautifully into his beautiful fucking thighs. Jinyoung’s hips steady. Jinyoung’s hips and ass. Thank you, whoever’s out there, for Jinyoung.

Mark’s apparently much more stressed out than he had originally imagined, because he can’t control any part of himself anymore. He dips forward, his mouth fleeting past Jinyoung’s, his lips dropping into the sweaty curve of Jinyoung’s neck. He smells like alcohol and sweat. He smells vaguely of something normal, like a generic musk that shouldn’t swallow up Mark the way it does. He can’t help it as his mouth moves against Jinyoung’s skin. 

Jinyoung arches and lets his head fall back. His hand sweeps up Mark’s back, between his shoulder blades, venturing into his brown hair.

Mark’s hand has fallen from Jinyoung’s head, instead wrapped loosely around Jinyoung’s waist.

Jinyoung uses his free hand to guide Mark’s hands to his ass.

“We should get outta here.”

It wasn’t supposed to be heard - and it’s not, not over the pounding of the dirty bass, but it’s felt. Jinyoung grabs Mark by the pockets of his jeans and he pulls him forward, yanking him and his self control. Not that there’s much of that left.

“I live nearby.” Jinyoung prompts, brave and handsome. Has Mark mentioned how handsome he is?

“Good.”

They order more drinks, two more rounds of shots, and Mark’s plastered. Jinyoung’s plastered. 

Jinyoung trips over the sidewalk, laughing and groping. He’s so fucking handsy. He’s so demanding. They make it down a block, and that’s where Mark kisses him.

It’s nothing romantic - there’s _no_ semblance of romance. It’s sloppy and wet and horny. But Mark can’t help himself, he needs to be within kissing distance of Jinyoung’s soft lips. He needs to be within touching distance of Jinyoung’s ass. Jinyoung’s pants hug his bottom as he walks, tight and teasing as he steps forward and Mark can’t keep his hands off.

“I’m not too far, really, we’re not too far away.” Jinyoung says to break their kiss. But when Mark pulls away he’s being pulled back in by the collars of his (Yugyeom’s) jacket. 

Mark wants to know what Jinyoung likes. He wants to know what makes Jinyoung tick, what makes him unfurl. He’s dying to take a bite, he wants no more of this tasting bullshit. He’s looking for fun, for a distraction from his real life. And right now, with Jinyoung stumbling to get the keys in the front door -- when’d they get here? -- Mark’s not thinking about real life. He’s thinking about slamming Jinyoung against the wall and sticking his hands down his pants.

They make it to the bed, a tangle of limbs and Mark _finally_ takes a bite of Jinyoung. Of his thighs, to be precise, and Jinyoung enjoys the fuck outta it.

~ * ~

Mark’s dead.

This is what death feels like.

There’s even an angel at his side. A gorgeous and handsome and perfect angel with soft lips and softer cheekbones. An angel that glows in the darkness. Is this the afterlife?

Oh, wait, that’s Jinyoung.

 _Same thing_ , his brain tells him only seconds before, _find the bathroom or a garbage or something_ , because his stomach is telling him he’s gonna throw up. Mark reaches for his phone as he steps on it, because it starts buzzing against his toes. He answers the phone and at the same moment he answers it - hopefully it’s not his mom, he didn’t check the caller ID, he finds a bathroom sink to throw up into. It’s closer than the toilet. And he vaguely hears Jackson’s voice. First he hears panic, wild, unadulterated panic, he feels it in his chest until he’s vomiting the feeling out.

“Jackson?”

_“Asshole! Where are you?! You’re not at the dorm?! Are you hurt?!”_

Mark groans and nearly drops his phone in the sink. He tries to rinse out the sink with running water, and Jackson’s still yelling on the line.

“Jinyoung’s…” Mark slurs. “Jinyoung’s place.”

Jackson stops abruptly. _“Shit, dude, you got laid? I don’t have to call the cops?”_

Mark frowns and hangs up.

He thinks he got laid. He’s not one-hundred percent sure. But he probably shouldn’t stay. He finds his way back to the bedroom, stumbling through unfamiliar territory in the dark, while naked. It’s even worse in Jinyoung’s room. He doesn’t know the layout and accidentally pulls on a pants that aren’t his. He groans and sits on the floor for a minute. He thinks he’s sitting. He’s not too sure.

Then, in defeat, he gets butt-naked again and crawls back into bed. Jinyoung doesn’t wake, but he moves towards the warmth and curls around Mark’s body.

~ * ~

Mark’s still stumped as to why Jinyoung approached him. 

Even now, as the after-sex fog as rolled away, as the sunlight blankets his skin, revealing blemishes, Jinyoung is the most handsome man Mark’s ever seen. And now that the alcohol is out of his system, he appreciates Jinyoung’s beauty in a different way. He appreciates the slope of Jinyoung’s jaw with his fingertips. He appreciates the curve of Jinyoung’s lips. He’s so breathtaking, so gentle in his sleep. When he wakes, slowly and then all at once, smiling that gorgeous smile of his, Mark feels feelings that don’t go hand in hand with a one-night stand. He’s heart is freaking out inside his chest.

He wants to know about Jinyoung. Sugar cookies or chocolate chip? Museums or clubs? Both? Rom-com or action? Neck kisses or kisses on the lips? PDA? No PDA? Does he study? Is he going to school? Is he ticklish? A ticklish Jinyoung has gotta be cute as fuck.

Jinyoung blinks slowly at him. “Good morning,” He says, his voice raspy from misuse; from when he groaned and shouted Mark’s name.

Instead of feeling hot again, Mark feels flustered. He blushes as Jinyoung’s hand finds his underneath the covers, and he blurts, “Do you wanna get waffles?”

It’s no surprise when Jinyoung freezes. “Do I wanna… what?”

“Um… waffles…” He hadn’t been very confident in the beginning, and he’s sounding even less confident now.

Jinyoung grins and laughs and Mark’s heart stutters. If this is the last time he hears it, then so be it.

“Yeah, yeah. I’d love to get waffles with you.”

Jinyoung finds him a toothbrush, lets him borrow his face soap, and says, “Fuck it, wanna shower together?”

Mark nods, and can’t help himself when he kisses Jinyoung under the shower spray. He doesn’t gets handsy, and Jinyoung _melts._

“What was that for?”

Mark digs his grave a little deeper, “I like your lips.” and leans in for another kiss.

~ * ~

It’s almost one in the afternoon when they place their orders for waffles. Mark’s thinking that it would’ve been cheaper to make pancakes at Jinyoung’s house. But that’s too… couple-y. It’s too domestic. And, to Mark’s horror, Jinyoung has _roommates._ He wants to avoid that drama. They’re not a couple. And honestly, Mark doesn’t know any couple ever that’s founded on a one-night stand. Does he want someone that hangs out at a club? Does he want to date someone that sends drinks to strangers across a bar? If he’s looking for anyone, he needs someone a bit more sincere. He needs someone that’s got their head properly screwed onto their shoulders.

But then again, he was at the club instead of studying for his midterm today, so who’s to judge?

“What’s on your mind?” Jinyoung asks with finesse, unobtrusive and sincere.

Mark glances up at him from over his coffee mug, the coffee double brewed and bitter but it’s kicking his hungover ass into gear. He made it to the restaurant without vomiting and it really hoping to keep that track record going. And he hasn’t seen Jinyoung even so much as sway in his stride, so Mark’s feeling insecure in his hangover-ness. Like he’s the only one out of the two of them that’s a mess right now.

“Midterms.”

Jinyoung’s eyebrows hike into his forehead and he frowns, an expression saying that he gets it. “Yeah, I have a midterm tonight, too. What class do you have?”

“I have an English midterm tonight.”

“That can’t be too hard, you speak English.”

Mark shrugs. “I have an Ethics and Calculus exam tomorrow.”

Jinyoung laughs, “Ugh, _calculus._ ”

“It’s required for my major. All the math classes are.”

They pause as their food is brought over, Jinyoung’s Belgium waffle with bananas and some _really_ delicious looking brown sugar syrup and nuts. Mark’s own is covered in nutella with a side of sausages. He’s hoping this helps cure his upset stomach, at the least. 

Jinyoung, making this seem even more like a date, offers to split his waffle with Mark. Half and half. And Mark agrees, so now there’s half a banana waffle and half a nutella one. Jinyoung presses this ‘date’ thing a little further and feeds him a bite. Just one bite has Mark groaning in appreciation. His stomach is disagreeing to agree. His heart is spinning in fucking circles. These are not feelings to be had after a hook-up. These feelings don’t make sense with the lust and passion he was feeling last night. 

Then they’re back to talking about school, which is the last thing Mark wants to talk about. He’s already feeling like shit and this conversation isn’t helping, but he discovers a few interesting facts: Jinyoung works part-time, that’s why he lives in an apartment instead of a dorm. He’s an English major. He’s barely two years younger than Mark and just one grade below him. They go to the same university.

 _And_ they go to the same university!

That one makes him want to somersault across the restaurant.

Mark’s an Engineering major and Jinyoung’s and English major, so there’s not even a slim chance that their classes will ever overlap, but this gives them a _foundation_. Because Mark’s been desperately trying to find one. 

He also finds out that Jinyoung wasn’t born here in America, but in South Korea. He finds out that Jinyoung’s got a passion for books that makes him want to read a novel. He finds out that Jinyoung’s smile - his _real_ smile, the one that’s whole and genuine, hidden behind his beautiful hands, makes Mark’s heart stutter and all bad thoughts about midterms, swim away.

“What time is your midterm at?” Jinyoung asks, using his fork to mop up as much nutella as he can on his last bite of waffle. He’s having a lot of fun exploring the soft side of the man he hooked up with last night. There are so many different levels to Mark, even if he’s only seeing two; horny club-goer and college student, and he’s curious about all the other parts. 

“Six, tonight.”

“Mine’s at five.”

“What building?”

“Stevenson Hall.”

“Do you think you’ll be a while?”

Mark has a midterm tomorrow at ten in the morning. “I don’t know, probably, the professor loves exams.”

“And you said you live on campus, right?"

 _Mark has a midterm tomorrow at ten in the morning._ “Yeah, I’m in Grant.”

 **Mark has a midterm tomorrow at ten in the morning** but Jinyoung’s looking for a way in and Mark’s swinging the door right the fuck open.

“I live near the library,” Mark continues. “Do you wanna meet at the library?”

Jinyoung smiles, glad his enthusiasm is being met. “Yeah, I do. Do you have any exams tomorrow?”

“10AM, for Ethics.”

“We could study together.”

Mark’s grinning, and he’s totally unaware of the butterflies he’s set off in Jinyoung’s stomach; of the stress that he’s relieving. Jinyoung had been so nervous to ask, hoping not to press and read too much into the feelings he had hoped he hadn’t been imagining. He doesn’t want to come off as clingy, like some one-night stand that doesn’t get the picture. He doesn’t wanna be that guy. But there are _signals_ being flashed from Mark’s charming brown eyes.

“We should go back to the club on Friday, too” Mark says, feeling brave. “We should get some drinks and get some food after. Celebrate getting through finals week.”

Jinyoung accepts the proposal with ease, with that gorgeous smile of his that he hides again behind his hand. Mark reaches for him, sliding their fingers together so he can see that smile, unhidden. It’s adorable that Jinyoung shies away, looking down as he laughs, his gaze fleeting through his bangs. Mark just smiles with him, and they make plans for midterms and studying and _dates._ On the outside they seem composed, but on the inside they’re a nervous, but excited, mess.

**Author's Note:**

> i wrote this during midterms week instead of studying bc schoolwork had me stressed :) and i really wanted chili cheese fries at like 3 in the morning, every morning.
> 
> julie ily i hope this is anywhere near what you wanted from a clubbing au.


End file.
